I have often thought of love as merely the assurance and security of a crowded or paired-up life. I have learned in a psychology class that being bound in marriage is the means to subliminally lose the insecurity in the unpredictable circumstance of life ahead. People want a partner to solely have that emotional, financial, and “whatsoever” security. And I found it ludicrous to settle within that idea. I didn’t like the dependency onto the other or other people to live a life. Perhaps it is brought about by my own philosophy that everything is not bound onto anything. I can live my reality and my own self by myself.
But little did I know until I felt the need of a company when detachment from a former object of attachment came. And that was where my idea of being in relationship came from. Yes, unfortunately, I have never been in any romantic commitment before, and I hunger for it now. I know less of it even. I cannot claim that I have immense wisdom or knowing on it. But I have come into the thinking the internal need that comes with it. And I say that I was wrong. It’s not about saying the petty cliché “No man is an island,” but rather it is to admit that having someone isn’t merely tantamount to having any concrete security or what not in the end. It is fundamentally completing one’s being, understanding the commonalities, or differences, and filling that empty space within.
I have read stories, watched movies, made crazy pretensions in life just so as to fill what has to be filled within me. But neither of these make me happy. Neither of which can replicate love. And it all came down to my self-realization, my own understanding of what love is.
To love is to feel appreciated, loved, not rejected. Nobody wants to be hated. But the thought of being accepted as who he or she is couldn’t be the same or equal to anything. The thought that one is exceptional to the other makes that love the sole reality there is.
I have recently realized that I am not “philia-phobic.” I was simply daunted by rejection, being not loved, being not wanted. I was then denying the existence of being, my being. I have been rejected several times, and I don’t want it any longer, not this time, not at this point. To love is to embrace the other not for a single character, but for the whole. There may be inevitable flaws, yet that acceptance of an individual for the being that he or she is makes inevitable the genuine love that is.
To love is not just about the self. It is about the other altogether. It is about the other not just appreciating, but being seen appreciated and appreciative for what he or she has as his or her other part. Seeing the other half realizing his or her own being in that bond and commitment is about it. The reciprocity and complement makes it definite and precise.
Sometimes, it takes sad circumstances to utterly understand something as abstract as love. It takes grueling and ridiculous loneliness to see the whole of the part, to see the real in every simulated situation.
Love, to say in final, is something encompassing, transcending facets of life, no matter the gender, sex, age, beliefs and principles, statuses, or other attributes or predispositions. It’s beyond any capture of the concrete. It is the bind and completeness of the other. It is that cure for one’s loneliness and at the same time of the other. It is the appreciation of the parts as the whole. It is knowing one’s existence and being in and through the other, in the same way as with the other.
Truly, love is beyond what meets the eye. It’s even more profound and set deep. It is often difficult to grasp. But all this while, some people tend to understand it before anything else. And I hope to actualize mine within my own reality.